


Grace

by millygal



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Introspection, M/M, Out of Body Experiences, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 14:45:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10642044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millygal/pseuds/millygal
Summary: Something to fight against.





	

Sam can see himself, he can see himself and he can see Gene and they're wrapped around each other, locked together in some kind of dance. One where neither partner knows quite how to lead.

He can feel Gene's body beneath his fingers, the way the muscles jump and shift. He can feel it _and_ he can see it. It's as if he's stepped to one side and is watching the whole scene unfold, waiting in the wings to find out how it ends.

He knows how it ends, it's the same every time. Gene'll push him to the floor, he'll mount him, he'll fuck him. He'll poor everything he is into the jerk of his hips and the grip of his fingers. Telling Sam in the only way he can. 

It's like being in two places at once.

Physical Sam can feel the way Gene's lips slide over his, the way his tongue is slightly rough and rasps against his own.

Years of hard drinking and hard smoking have given Gene a finely matured quality. Like an old book, yellowed and peeling at the edges but no less interesting to get yourself lost in. 

Watchful Sam, the Sam that's stepped outside himself, can see the things physical Sam can't. The flicker of Gene's eyelashes against his cheek. The way Gene seems to watch him constantly, watch him for any sign of, regret maybe or reluctance.

There's a shift in Gene that Sam wouldn't usually be aware of, it's something well hidden, after all Gene's had years to hone his skills. He fights, he argues, he laughs and he jokes but very rarely does he let down his barriers. Very rarely does he let someone see him for who he is.

Sam wonders if perhaps Gene would like to be seen, like to be noticed, instead of taken for who they think he is. Does anyone ever really look any-more, ever really search out the truth of him?

He likes to think he sees him better than most and this sense of being apart from himself is helping him see all the more.

He'd always imagined Gene's face would be hard and closed off when they're together, when they're sweating and heaving and grappling with each other, but no. His face is soft and open and possibly a little bit hopeful, a tiny bit joyous. 

Sam feels a sense of pride at that, pride at being able to lift off Gene's many layers to reveal the man underneath.

He could probably draw you a diagram with little arrows pointing to where he likes to be tickled, loves to be nibbled and adores being sucked but Sam wants more, he wants to be able to have Gene look at him and know, deep down in his soul, what the other man is thinking.

He's closer than most, but it still isn't enough. 

Physical Sam is straining against Gene, pushing back, attempting to find some footing against the other mans bulk. While he does, the Sam that's floating can see the way Gene lets him, lets him fight and find what he needs. He's a far more loving man than he likes to make out.

It's that insight that brings Sam crashing back into his own head, his own body. 

The first thing he sees once his mind has merged with the rest of him, is the expression on Gene's face. Like he's in awe that someone like Sam would or could want to be with someone like him. That look, that tiny spark at the back of Gene's eyes, almost shatters Sam. 

He thinks he could break into a thousand shimmering pieces, knowing that Gene really does want him and isn't just using him for his angers sake. For a quick fuck or as a way to get rid of a weeks worth of pent up rage at the way the world works.

So, instead of taking his usual stance at Gene's feet, offering himself to the man, because that used to be the only way he thought Gene would take him, he stands firm. Faces him.

He runs a hand across Gene's cheek, trailing the tips of his fingers, ever so lightly along heated flesh. For the first time, Gene allows Sam to see him lean into the touch. Allows him to see how much this truly effects him.

Sam's decision is made for him when Gene lowers himself to his knees. Laying himself at Sam's feet. 

Sam almost whimpers, almost but not quite. He wants to give Gene what Gene's been giving him. Something to push back against, something to fight but not necessarily beat.

He watches, dumb struck as Gene spreads himself, offers himself. Sam doesn't need to be asked. 

Sam doesn't think Gene's ever been on the receiving end of anything in his life and bares that in mind when he positions himself at Gene's opening. He's gentle but he's firm. He digs his nails into Gene's hip and pulls him back slightly. 

Gene whimpers, Gene actually whimpers and it fills Sam with the urge to crow, to crawl to the top of the tallest building and shout for as long as his lungs can stand it.

Instead, he shunts himself forwards slightly, sheathing himself in Gene's grasping heat. Stilling, Sam allows the sensation of completion to wash over him, run through him. 

Gene tenses and Sam doesn't move, doesn't dare breath, just lets him get used to being taken. It isn't something Gene knows, isn't something he's ever had to be before. As much as Sam likes to kid himself, Gene's never let him win one small argument or fight, so letting him do this must be grating against everything Gene is.

Yet he doesn't pull away, doesn't shrug him off. Eventually he to starts fidget, the same need that usually fills Sam is seeping its way along Gene's nerves.

Taking it slowly, Sam begins to thrust.

Suddenly Sam wishes he was above it all again, floating somewhere up by the ceiling, just so he can see the way Gene's lip twitches as he slides him off his cock. The way his fingers dig into the carpet whenever Sam buries himself deep.

Instead, he wallows in the feeling of being squeezed, of being milked. He leans forward and kisses Gene lightly between the shoulder blades, enjoying the way the muscles move beneath his mouth. The way Gene groans and shifts every-time Sam breaths in or out.

Sam grits his teeth, fighting the need to pound into Gene, the need to completely lose himself.

Gene begins to fight back, begins to push the way Sam is so used to pushing and that's all Sam needs to let himself go, let himself really go.

Gene's sliding himself on and off Sam's cock, grunting and groaning, babbling incoherently about stopping and not stopping about losing and winning.

Together they reach a murderous pace, a pace that Sam thinks will kill him eventually. His back is arched and his head is thrown back, mouth open in silent supplication to the gods, thanking them for the gift that is Gene Hunt.

Sam reaches underneath Gene and grasps his cock, allowing his sweat slicked palm to slide the entire length twice before he begins to pump him in time to their thrusts. 

Sam wants to see Gene break, wants to feel him shatter the way Gene's felt him shatter so many times before.

He doesn't have to wait long. Gene's breathing is laboured and he's clenching around Sam, making Sam's eyes roll back in his head, dragging him kicking and screaming towards his own climax.

Gene's hips jerk, bringing Sam with him and they end up in a sweaty heap on the floor, tangled around each other.

Afterwards, when they've managed to find their own limbs and figure out whether they're still breathing or not, they lay together, Gene's head pillowed on Sam's chest. 

Sam glances down, watches as Gene's breathing evens out and he falls into a peaceful sleep. The sound of soft snoring accompanies Sam into the dark, soft snoring and the sudden sense of being home.

  



End file.
